


she turned her back and the sky went black

by openended (orphan_account)



Series: The Calamitous and Bizarre Life Events of Quinn and Prue, Roommates [1]
Category: Original Work, Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Gen, Phone Calls & Telephones, Roommates, what the hell is in the walls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:36:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/openended
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is a phone call, about weird things in the walls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	she turned her back and the sky went black

“I don’t get off work for another hour,” she adjusts the flame underneath the bechamel sauce (she’s across the kitchen chopping onion, not even looking at the stove, hopes no one notices), “you should probably call Helen.”

 _“What do you know?”_ Prue’s voice is tinny through the cell phone, worried, almost drowned out by the chaos of the Alfredo’s kitchen on a Saturday night.

She shakes her head, nearly loses the phone into the vegetables, “no more than you.” It’s half a lie; she talks to Declan.

 _“Quinn.”_ It’s the I Know You’re Lying voice.

“Prue.” It’s the Just Do It Please voice. She can defend herself against the unknown things that go bump in the night (the known things that go bump in the night are neighbors, often over for chili). Her abnormality is useful. Prue’s is not.

 _“Okay.”_ She understands the reluctance. They live in New City, outside the protective shadow of the Sanctuary, for a reason. Sometimes, like tonight, the independence works against them.

A flurry of shouting - a hybrid of Italian, Spanish, and swearing, understandable only to staff. “I have to go. Hour and a half, tops.” Speed limits are recommendations. Especially when they think something unfriendly has moved up from below and into the walls. Many unfriendly somethings have moved upward recently.

 _“I’m timing you._ ” The smirk transfers through the phone.

She’s home in ninety-one minutes and though the black car is parked out front, its driver slouched with a hat pulled down over his odd features, and chaos proceeds to ensue for the next four hours, she’s still stuck cleaning the bathroom.


End file.
